


I…Waaaannnntttt…Yoooouuuu…

by MicahDebrink



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: F/M, Mind Control, Original Character(s), Other, Pokephilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:00:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicahDebrink/pseuds/MicahDebrink
Summary: An elder ninetales, while seeking vengeance for the death of his vulpix daughter, falls in love with a young human trainer who has lost her way. What happens next is unforgettable.





	I…Waaaannnntttt…Yoooouuuu…

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I wrote this to try to prove to myself I can still write deep, meaningful fics…I hope I have succeeded…! Hope you enjoy this quick one-shot. Thanks to Rekad on FFN for the inspiration for the main character.
> 
> (Disclaimer: Contains disturbing sexual content. You have been warned. I do not condone illicit sexual activity by humans or by pokémon, or any other illicit activities carried out in this story. Pokemon and its trademarked items do not belong to me.)

The valley has looked the same since I was born here. The base is covered in soft grasses, with the occasional colorful wildflowers and bald patches (from one careless fire pokémon’s failed experiments). There are the barren mountains on both sides, speckled with crystal ice from the winter before. The wind blows fresh across my golden fur, funneling through the narrow valley.

The only thing older than me is the nature around me. The grasses must be from seeds that are thousands of years old, staying dormant in the winter and sprouting every spring. The crystal clear ice must be from water that is well over a billion years old, recycled by the clouds and the snow and the melting sun. The air must be billions of years old—yet as youthfully fresh as ever.

And I resent that so much. To wake up, to call the day “new”, to call the sunrise “new”, to call the hopes and dreams and future “new”; it is a grossly inaccurate misnomer.

I am 938 years old. My fur is the deepest, most luscious gold color in the area. And for this unconcealable sign of seniority, other vulpix and younger ninetales cluster around me. They whisper among themselves:

“Ask him, the Senior. He will know what to do, he always does.”

“I’m not sure, though…”         

“He’s over 900. He has to know.”

I do not understand; perhaps there is something irresistible about me that I am missing. Is it the deep golden fur? Is it the way that it glistens in the light? Wisdom is blinding, if that is so. Do they not see the glimmering is because of the way my fur trembles? The way I tremble when I try to stand proud, and make my face deserving of my younger kindred?

I don’t think I was ever meant to become a Senior.

* * *

“And if worst comes to worst, you start a brush fire. That’ll send your human enemies running,” I said a younger ninetales one morning, my voice insipid and dragging.

“But I know these humans, Senior,” the younger one (a male) said. “They come prepared. They use gases to knock you out. Or, they come with other gas containers that they use to stop the fire. Then they shoot us with their gun weapons and take us away to sell. You know. Like your daughter was.”

I stared out into the empty grassland, silently. A cold breeze blew at that moment.

“Don’t you remember? Senior?”

I do remember. It was at least 300 years ago, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. It was a cold, winter night. She was just a little vulpix, with one tail, hatched only three days before. Her flame was not developed, and I used my insulating fur and flame to keep her body warm. Suddenly, a human intruder crept into our lair, a sharp blade in his hand.

I will never forget his face when I shone my flame upon him. His teeth were clenched, eyes aghast, sweat beading down his cheeks despite the cold night. The human had light brown head fur, was quite muscular, and had cool sky-blue eyes. He had paused, for he had not seen an older ninetales like me before, with deep golden fur rather than the usual yellowish beige. I enlarged my flame, and he tensed up even more.

Nonetheless, he would win the battle. I must have looked a second too long. Before I could use my eight free tails to fire at him, he took out a gun. But this gun was different; it did not kill me, but compelled me into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my little vulpix was dead, having expired on my belly. Her single white tail was cut off. From what I have overheard from humans, the extremely delicate fur of the one-tailed newborn vulpix is especially valued. If a vulpix or ninetales loses any one of their tails, they quickly lose their internal flame that keeps them alive and they succumb…painfully. This is why we guard our tails so closely, and condemn those who even touch them.

How I myself was spared by that despicable human I shall never know. Perhaps he did not have the space to carry my large golden tails for sale in the market. All I knew was there was a block of ice on my trembling body—my daughter’s corpse had frozen to the same temperature as the snow-covered outside.

I gave her one last kiss, and put her down on the ground. I moved to another lair the next night.

I vowed then to become stronger, for the sake of my daughter and future sons and daughters. But I was nearly 700 by then, and age was not on my side when I trained. I had little success with future mates (our fertility sharply declines after 100 years). I have had no offspring since then.

Looking back at the present moment, the grass lush and the sun warm, I turned back to the younger ninetales I was teaching.

“What should I do, Senior?” he repeated. “What should I do when the humans come for me…?”

I settled with the look of resignation I had on my face that snowy morning. “If the humans are so well-prepared, then…then you can do nothing with your attacks. If you are meant to die…then perhaps you should embrace it.”

“I don’t like that,” he said. “I don’t like to give up.”

“There are many things in life that you won’t like. I don’t like many things about my life,” I said, sympathizing. “You sometimes have to accept that you _will_ die in certain situations, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He snapped. “Easy for you to say, you’re about to die yourself…!”

“Watch what you’re saying to a Senior…!” At one, I admired his honesty. Flattery was something I detested, especially as I grew older and became the subject of much _crawling_.

“I’m sorry I can’t provide with you with much more advice than that,” I continued. “The valley has…” _changed a lot._ I guess I was wrong.

“Senior…? You were going to say…?”

“It’s nothing,” I said, turning away from him and staring blankly at the ground. I didn’t wish to talk very much. I had the energy, but it didn’t seem my worthwhile.

“Oh, well, if that’s the case—“

“Wait,” I said as my ears perked up. I hopped up to the nearest rock in the tall grass, to get a clear view. I signaled the younger ninetales not to follow me. The rock was quite high, perhaps twice my height. I could scale it, but I had lost the agility and spontaneity in my legs that I had in my younger years.

I sat up as straight as I could—my back was aching this morning. I saw a rustling in the left corner of my eye. “Someone’s coming.”

It was a human: a female, but any more detail than that was hard to deduce. She was dangerously close to our territory. Slowly climbing down the rock (and wincing from the strain on my joints), I gestured silently for the younger ninetales to follow me. We ran across the field to get closer to this human.

After about 800 yards or so of running, we stopped at the river. “There she is, Senior,” the young ninetales whispered to me. She was across the river. The river marked our territory; nonetheless, she was dangerously close to our borders.

“Stay here,” I said, mustering all my energy to scurry gracefully down to the riverbank. “I’ll cross. You stay and look out.”

I was still quite adept at swimming since it didn’t hurt my joints as jumping on land did. But the current was stronger than I expected, and my paws kept scraping against rocks in the shallow river bed. It took me a few minutes to get to the other side.

Having been carried downstream, I walked for about 20 yards along the river bank to reach the human. Every step I took in the tall grass, there was a rustling noise. Perhaps the human chose to ignore it at first. When she finally did turn to look, she flinched.

“Oh…no…” I heard her whisper in her own language. While ninetales understand human speech, our mouth and tongue structure make it difficult to emulate human speech sounds. Some ninetales have been able to fully grasp human speech, but this is rare.

I tried to ask her reason for being here. “Whaaat…aaarrreee…youuu…” I struggled to say.

Her eyes widened in amazement, nonetheless. “What!? A pokémon…talking!?”

She pulled her arms towards her chest as she stood, as if to protect her innocent heart from the psychological damage it had incurred. I guessed she was a young trainer, just starting out: about 10 or 11, perhaps. She wore a t-shirt and jean shorts on her body. She was a little taller than me—typical for a human child. She had short dark blonde head fur released in curls, and freckles lining her soft blue eyes. She stood quite still with her arms around her, chuckling nervously as I examined her body.

She avoided eye contact with me when I tried to look at her. Even when I approached, or gave her a threatening gaze, she did not run with haste, as most humans did. She just stood. Stood, her flimsy arms guarding her, interchanging between glances of the grass and my golden fur. With time, her stares at the grass came shorter; at my golden fur, longer. She eventually released her arms to her side, but continued to stand in place—her blue eyes focused on me.

Looking back to the other side of the river, I waved to the young ninetales to go away. He took a sip from the river water, then disappeared into the tall grass, his scent fading from me.

Then, I turned my attention to the human. She was trembling, and hadn’t moved from where she was standing. She had ceased to laugh. Standing a few yards away, I growled at her, as a test.

“RRRGH!”

“EEEK! Don’t, don’t hurt me!” She used her tiny arms to shield herself again. “I…I don’t want to hurt you. You have a very kind heart, I can tell. I’ve…I’ve never heard of a pokémon who can talk. So listen to me. I know you don’t want to hurt me.” At that point, I did.

“Say something,” she continued, “Say something to me if you understand…hmm?” She dared to walk closer to me. My expression softened. She reached out her right hand and pet the golden yellow fur on my head. I shifted my tails away from her, as a precaution, and glared at her intensely.

But she was unfazed by my active discouragement. When I stared, her soft blue eyes stared straight back, continuing to sink her fingers deeper into my head fur. Something about her was so special.

It was in that close position that I realized why. The moment may be a little fuzzy in my memory, but I will always remember the face of the person who slaughtered my daughter, 300 years ago. And that face was there, right in front of me. I saw his eyes in the girl’s eyes. I saw his mouth in her mouth. His head fur in her head fur. His voice in hers. Even her smell was a reminder. I subconsciously anchored myself into the ground, my eyes incensed, anger reaching the boiling point.

I pushed her hand away from my paw. I did not remove my stare. “Youuurrr…ffffamilllyyy…killleddd…myyy…dauuughterrr.” I took a breather before I continued.

“I…want…yyyouuu…” _Dead._ I wanted to say. But that word was impossible for me to pronounce.

Determined to succeed, I tried again. “I…want…youuu…th…d…theh…”

I tried again. “I want…youuu…dh…thd…”

I was losing my stare on the girl. I stared bleary-eyed at the ground instead, panting to myself. I sighed sharply and mustered all the energy and mental power I could. “Hmm. I want youuu…dhth…dthteh…thehuh…”

She was trying to listen. “You mean ‘there’? You want me _there_?” She moved to another spot on the river bank, sitting on a small rock. She looked out casually at the flowing river, seemingly oblivious to my vengeful blood-red eyes, locked on her like prey. But I would not be eating her. I would be burning her into ashes, a flame so hot and so ever-consuming—only such a punishment could do my daughter’s untimely death justice.

Standing about 10 yards from her, I prepared one of my tails (one tail was enough) to sear her whole. It would be quick, I reasoned. Almost like nothing happened, and then, _fwoosh_ , dead. Dead.

But when it came to the time, I couldn’t manage it. Relaxing my rigid stance, I withdrew my flame, and stared at the human instead, looking out from the river bank.

She had walked up to the water, a bunch of purple wildflowers in her hand, her shoes taken off, and her feet nervously dipped in the water. I followed suit, sitting down beside her, dipping my front paws into the clear, cool water. She was to my right. My eyes were locked to the right. I could explain why my stare was so unbreakable: she was the family that killed my only daughter.

But that alone did not explain why I was staring, staring at those features: her eyes in an innocent gaze, her mouth soft and supple, her voice light and melodious, her smell, carried by the wind…so infectiously fragrant.

She was far from the heartless killer that was her ancestor—an ancestor from 300 years ago that she probably never knew or spoke to. I was far from the vengeful killer that I had made myself for the sake of my family—the family that could no longer possibly exist at my age.

Here, by the river, by the fresh young water, the young morning sky, we could be ourselves, the weight of our families, our past, our societal obligations…released from our little bodies.

She finally noticed I was staring. “Do you want one?” she asked. She took one of the purple wildflowers in her hand and stuck it unelegantly in my head fur. She giggled. Then she went back to looking out at the river.

I tried to find her soft blue eyes, but I could not see it from the angle I was sitting: next to her. I blew some flames out, to release the unwanted tension inside me. The flame touched the river, turning it into thick clouds of steam.

The human’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that’s cool!” she smiled, and finally turned to look at me. I smiled back.

With her attention on me, I asked her a question. “Dooo…youuu…wannttt…to...ssstayyyy?”

* * *

She had one pokémon with her, a starter pokémon, which confirmed my assumption that she was a young trainer.

It was a fennekin. A female. Her intelligence was laughable, but she served as a loyal companion to the human. First it was her turn. The young pokémon ran deep in the tall grass.

“…8…9…10…READY OR NOT HERE I COME!”

The young trainer had stuck one of the purple wildflowers in her head fur. (The one she had placed on me had fallen off with time.) She proceeded to run into the tall grass. I saw the grass rustle as she made a left turn, a right turn, a U-turn.

“I see you…!” I heard the trainer inside.

There was some intense rustling, and she emerged panting and covered in sweat, the fennekin wrapped in her arms.

“Gotcha, Fenny!” She said to her pokémon. The young fox pokémon giggled along with her.

“Want to play?” she looked at me, noticing I was staring again.

“I…donn’t…knoowww…” The meaning of this game. All this hiding, what was it for? What was so great about hiding?

“You don’t know how to play? Here, I’ll teach you,” she said, beckoning me towards the tall grass. “I’ll sit over there and count to 10…”—she pointed—“…and you’re supposed to hide somewhere. When I shout ‘READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!’, I’ll try and find you. Then you have to run so I don’t tag you. Understand?”

“Unnndderrrstannndd…”

“Okay, good,” she smiled. “I’ll start counting. 1…2…3…”

I concealed myself in the tall grass, my eyes laser-focused on her body.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

I made my body smaller by wrapping my tails around me. This caused a rustling noise.

“I see you!”

After some chasing, I stopped in my tracks. I pretended to pant, as if I had run out of stamina. It was a success: her hand touched the side of my body.

“Gotcha,” she said, satisfaction beaming from her face.

I shivered as her warm flesh touched me. I did not restrain my own smile of satisfaction.

“Now…why don’t you try it out?” She suggested. “You count, and I’ll hide! How’s that?”

I smiled. “Goooddd.”

“Okay, then. Stand there. And no peeking.”

I covered my eyes with two of my tails. But her lovely scent continued to permeate; mixed with the wildflowers in the meadow, it was an intoxicating combination.

Intoxicated, I counted slowly. “1…

“2…

“3…”

And so on.

“Heerree…I…commmeee!” I struggled to pronounce it with the dexterity that she had.

I quickly noticed her hiding in the tall grass: her body was small, but her scent was strong. I heard a rustling in the grass. I snickered. She could not escape me.

The sunlight reflected strongly against my lustrous golden fur. The smell of her gave me strength. Out of impossibility, my legs propelled me through the grass, my body plowing a clear path.

I heard rustling from behind. I turned to see. She was there.

“I…ssseeee…yyyooouuu!”

She quickly evaded me by swerving to the right, deep into the tall grass. The wildflowers were in full bloom here; I could not tell it apart from her lovely smell. With a struggle, I managed to pick up her scent again. Panting with exhaustion, I forced my legs up straight to continue, that lovely scent my only hope, my only guide.

The faster I ran, so it seemed, the weakness in my legs seemed to vanish. It was as if the young body I once had was merely trapped in a shell of old age, yearning to be released. I didn’t know how fast I was running—I think I was only _this_ close to death, so close to breaking a vital bone and expiring uncivilly on the ground. To calm myself, I let the breeze flutter my golden tails and waft in that delicious human scent from the girl. Even if were to die…it would be a delicious last meal.

“I…ssseeee…yyyooouuu!” I finally said. Using the last morsel of energy I could gather, I pounced onto her body.

“Gotttt…yyyyouuu,” I said, barely conscious.

Completely exhausted, I lay my back on the ground, and let the human take control. We tumbled into the grass, our eyes locked, with her resting on top of me. My head was spinning from lack of air. I saw stars at every corner of the sky, every corner of the ground.

The trainer was straddling my belly, with her own belly rested on top of mine. “Whew…I’m…so…tired…ahhh…” She had run a lot as well.

I could feel her heart racing, the rapid rise and fall of her tiny chest. I closed my eyes, and let myself enter a daydream, with that sensation on me. I opened my eyes again. A soft breeze blew, and I saw the strands of her head fur glisten in the sunlight, so perfectly.

She couldn’t stop giggling with me. She stroked my golden fur slowly: starting from the thicker fur below my head, she gradually travelled down my front, down my belly, and towards my hind legs.

“Mmmgh…!” I couldn’t help but squeal when she reached my hind legs.

I wished she would continue. But then she stood up.

“Oh…I’m sorry…I don’t think you can breathe with me sitting on top of you, heehee.” She looked nervously at the ground. “You’re such a sweet pokémon, you deserve to be treated well. I want you…”

I cut her off. “I…waaannnttt… _yoouuu_.”

She looked at me. Another breeze blew, picking up her long head fur and projecting it in front of that glorious sun. She smiled again, her eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. Something in those eyes told me that she wanted me too.

“It’ll be dark soon,” she declared. “Let’s go back. Come, follow me.”

* * *

By the night, I had not minded the young trainer touching my tails gently. Much like a sexual organ, touching them gently is quite a pleasurable sensation—any more, and it is terrible pain. I trusted the trainer to not hurt me. Come to think of it, I trusted her with many things. She was spending the night in my territory, I had realized. Perhaps it was rather humiliating for a senior ninetales of my standing to be acquiescing to a young, helpless human. A trainer, furthermore.

I could not surrender my trust to a human. My late daughter was worth more than that. I looked into the blue eyes and light brown hair of the human again; in the dim light, I squinted and imagined her as the killer of my baby. Soon, a heat built up inside of me.

“I’ll sleep here,” she said, setting up her bedroll. “G’night, Fenny,” she said to her own pokémon. “G’night…erm…”

I silenced her with one of my furry tails over her mouth. Her soft, delicate mouth. “I…waaaannttt…yooouuu…”

I invited her to sit on a makeshift mattress that I had formed with my spread-out tails. My fur was soft, and she could not resist lying down. I twitched one of my tails. She squealed.

“That…that tickles~!”

I smiled to myself. I was in control now.

“It’s so dark tonight,” she said as she carefully sunk into my soft fur. “Maybe I should go back, could you use your flames and guide me to the nearest—“ she paused. My red glowing eyes focused upon her. It was working.

“Erm…on second thoughts…maybe I’ll lie here a little longer…” Upon my command, she thought about nuzzling back into my soft furry tails.

My eyes glowed brighter.

 “I think you’re very beautiful,” I made her say, then she giggled.

I let my manhood emerge from my sheath, then my eyes glowed brighter.

 “It’s very big,” I made her say, then her eyes squinted, then her breathing became heavier. “I think I’d love to…”

My eyes glowed brighter.

“Ugh…it’s warm in here all of sudden. I better take this off.” She stood up and stripped to her thin white underclothes.

I took care to watch closely. I laughed softly as I began pleasuring myself with one of my free tails. I invited her to join me. My eyes glowed brighter, and she offered herself to me, spreading her legs apart. I was happy to oblige her.

She giggled nervously at first, perhaps in shock at its enormity inside of her. But then her breathing became short, her face softened, her eyelids drooped. In the reflection of her eyes, I saw my own glowing red eyes, taking command of her body. Her hands, first gently stroking my fur, turned to impassioned grabbing. She had the most adorable little grunt.

“ _Rrrrgh…rrrgghh…_ ” She would moan as she bit her lip childishly. Her playfulness reminded me of my daughter, that dear vulpix. In the dim light, I squinted and could barely tell the difference. I was seeing my daughter all over again. And I would make her cling onto me tight, so she would never let go.

After 300 years, it had finally come to this. Sweet revenge. It tasted wonderful.

But of course, the only thing sweeter than revenge was…

“…8…9…10…ready or not…here…I…come…”

…her sweet lips. And her sweet lips.

* * *

Last night, there was some intense rustling in the night, and she emerged panting and covered in sweat, with my soft furry tails cuddling her tiny body.

I woke to an overcast sky. The trainer was not to be seen, even though it was only dawn. Her fennekin was fully awake, and standing quite impatiently, fidgeting most obsessively. When she noticed that I was awake, she quickly approached me.

“You hurt my trainer,” the fennekin said to me in pokémon speak. “I saw it all last night. Why did you do that!?”

“I—“

“I hope you think about your mistake,” she said. “You ninetales may be smarter than the rest of us pokémon, but you don’t know a thing about what it means to care, to love, and respect others. All you care about is yourself, and your selfish needs.”

“Her family killed my daughter. I did what was necessary of me.” I hurt her. I made her hurt as much as my dear vulpix suffered at the mercy of her wicked family. And she would have to live with that pain for the rest of her short human life.

“Your honor is more important than her virginity? She’s barely 11 years old, for fucking sake!”

“No, I—“

“Instead of arguing with me, why don’t you go over and comfort my poor little trainer? She’s sitting by the riverbank, over there, crying.”

Without a breeze and without the sun, her head fur was limp and lifeless today. Her face was buried in her tiny hands, faint trails of liquid trickling along the sides of her palm.

She noticed that my fur touched her when I sat beside her. I could not stop her from crying. When I wrapped my tails around her to console her, she only cried harder, pushing my tails away.

“I’mmmm…sssooorrryyy,” I said to her.

Her speech was distorted by her tears. “I…donnn’ttt…waanntt…youuu…”

She sounded just like me. A glimmer of sunlight emerged through the clouds, followed by a breeze. In the blinding morning light, her head fur appeared a bright golden yellow—the same color as my own fur. Her eyes were bloodshot from the tears—the same shade of red as my eyes. She was just like me. She was old: her soul battered, ripped—then taken away.

“I…don’t…want…you…” she repeated.

Only opposites attract, I reasoned to myself. At her tearful command, I withdrew my tails from her tender flesh, crossed the river, and walked across the grasslands back to my own lair.

* * *

The day was lonely. My mind drew a dissatisfied blank. I looked to the aged plants, the aged mountains, the aged water, for some wisdom. They did not oblige.

In the overcast sky, my golden fur lacked the shine it normally had. I resisted the urge to look back at the young trainer. I had controlled her. I had done what was expected of me, in honor of my deceased daughter. I had sought revenge for her sake. Revenge that was that human’s just deserts.

But this morning, revenge did not taste sweet. It was bitter, as bitter as the dirt with a puddle of salty tears where I stood. What was sweet was her smell…the scent of the sweet wildflowers, the scent of her skin—the scent in between her legs. Perhaps I gotten used to it. I could no longer smell it, nor could I even recall it.

 “What does this mean?” I called to the sky. “What are you teaching me? What is this lesson? What is it? What is it…!?”

I did not know what I had learned.

“Oh…oh dear. Oh dear. Oh…dear…my goodness. I…I can’t…” My voice was weak. Breathing became more difficult. My eyes still continued to see stars. I let my rotten joints and aching back release me to the ground as I felt myself expiring. I felt my flame being smothered by an invisible force. My tails slowly drooped.

I should have known there would be a new day soon. And here it was. The sun rose fresh in front of me. A soft riverbank and an endless field of purple wildflowers greeted me. I saw the human trainer. There was a purple wildflower stuck in her golden head fur. She smiled at me. This was new. This was a new day.

She spoke to me:

 _I…waaannnttt…yoooouuuu…ddeaaddd._ She said it perfectly.

_1…2…3…_

_4…5…6…_

_7…8…9…_

_10…ready or not,_

**Author's Note:**

> END. Thanks for reading, hope that was not too intense...your feedback is always appreciated!


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